As I Lay Dying
by Nagiana
Summary: A lemony oneshot based on Reid's taboo relationship with one of Pogue's more steady relationships.


**Hey all! I made this to be a oneshot only, but once I started writing it, I really fell in love with the plotline and with the relationship that Reid and my charater had. So I'm caught at a crossroads. Read and review and tell me your opinion if it should remain a oneshot or if I should expand on it and go more in depth into their relationship. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Covenant, but if I did . . . Reid would be all mine :)**

* * *

What the fuck is happening to me . . .?

I knew it was way past midnight, and that I was going to have to be up half an hour earlier than normal in order to beat Caleb and/or Tyler to the shower, and wash myself raw with near-scalding hot water.

Again.

For the third night in a fucking row.

My skin was still tingling . . . no wait, crawling all over me from what had transpired yesterday night. I didn't understand this. Me and Reid had always made a point of beating the crap out of each other, after all, we had grown up with each other, and sex had never been part of the deal, but now . . .

"Ugh . . .!" I practically flung myself over onto my side in disgust, gripping my pillow unnecessarily hard as I pressed my face into it and screamed quietly, so that Pogue would not be able to hear me. I needed to hit something. Anything. Now.

"This isn't over, and pretty soon Nadine, you won't want it to be . . ."

What the Hell did that mean? I couldn't make sense of it, no matter how hard I tried to. What was he saying? I vaguely considered calling my best friend, Sarah, and asking her advice. After all, she had been through this shit multiple times before, and I really needed someone who knew what the fuck they were talking about.

But, did it even matter though?

Eventually, I gave up and slid out of bed. The heat was still oppressive, but I didn't mind it so much now, given the fact that I had elected to dig out a slightly too-short pair of short shorts, and an old faded black tank top that I never wore anymore, to sleep in. I padded over to the window, where I slid it open, and took a deep breath. It didn't help much. The air was still slightly sticky with humidity, and the pouring rain was warm, and not in the least bit refreshing, but it was still outside air and rain nonetheless.

"Stupid me . . . stupid fucking me . . ." I murmured to myself, closing my eyes as a faint breeze ruffled my long black hair across my face. It was too long, to the small of my back. Pogue – thanks to me – had started a preference for long hair, even though he somewhat liked short hair before he met me. Reid liked it, though. He said he loved burying his hands within the locks, and feeling the strands tickle aganist his bare skin. How totally different Pogue and Reid were, yet, so how alike they were as well.

I let myself stand there for a little while longer, but eventually, I knew that I needed some sleep. I debated on closing the window and going back to bed, but it was still so warm . . .

I then debated on the couch or the bed, knowing that it would be cooler downstairs, and the couch eventually won out. I quietly ran down the reinforced glass see-through steps to the glass walled living room of the Covenant Manor. The pouring rain pounded off the glass walls, throwing rainy shadows around the room and onto the beige and white furniture. Typical Massachusetts weather.

I almost made it to the couch.

Almost.

He didn't say anything. The only sound came from him coming slowly and quietly down the stairs on the opposite side of the room. My hand was hovering above the blankets that I had plopped down onto the couch mere moments earlier, and I let it hang there, suddenly feeling myself go numb all over. I heard him move closer, and I slowly straightened up. I wouldn't look. I couldn't look.

"You're crossing the line. This has gone too far Reid. I think Pogue already knows. If he doesn't, he suspects something. Besides . . . you don't want Lauren to find out either, do you?"

"Has it?" He replied quietly and I could visualize in my mind, one of his eyebrows rising in polite inquiry. I shut my eyes as he laid his hands on my shoulders, trying my damndest to keep my breathing steady.

"You won't listen, will you?" No reply. I felt my fists tighten, the muscles in my arms tensing up. The fight in me was coming back. I was coming back. "Last chance Reid. Step away. Stop all this crap. Stop it before it really does go too far." Reid chuckled again, making me clench my jaw in anger and making the Power flood through my veins, making my pupils turn black.

"How far . . ." He whispered, putting his deliciously full lips aganist my ear, "Is too far, Nadine?"

Goddammit, he was too sexy for a sophomore in college.

And then, things started happening and started spiraling out of control way too damn fast. I spun around to hit him, to punch, kick, scratch and bite him if I had to. I would do anything just to get him away from me, but it was too little, too late.

Reid knocked my arms away as easily as a hunter slapping away frail branches as he walked through the forest, stalking his prey, and he gripped me by the back of my neck, harshly wrenching me closer to him. Before I had time to react, he had one hand tangled in my hair and was forcing me into a kiss. This was nothing like the previous ones. If those had been rough, this one was downright fucking brutal. He forced my mouth open with his tongue, before he sunk his teeth down into my bottom lip. I yelped as I felt his teeth tear through the sensitive skin, blood welling up and running in rivulets down my chin. But he didn't stop there. He ran his tongue briefly over the wounds soothingly, and continued assaulting my mouth. I tried to push him away, I really did, but he's always been just that little bit stronger. He was the male after all, and was more in tune with the Power.

I winced as he tugged on my hair, either by accident or on purpose, I didn't know. "Reid . . . you're hurting me . . . Ah!" He pulled his head away and shoved me backwards, hard, making me trip over my own two, betraying feet, and fall over onto the couch behind me. It was then that my mind started evaluating my position, and started hopelessly panicking as soon as my eyes caught sight of his all black eyes.

"Stay the Hell away from me, Reid Garwin!" I gasped. For some reason, I was trying to stay as quiet as possible. I didn't understand why. Pogue was just up the stairs and down the hall. If I called, this would all end in a heartbeat, but I didn't. Reid towered over me in the semi-darkness, backlit in the warm glow from the rainy, distorted lights coming in from the backyard garden outside. I could still see his eyes though, glowing a faint, light, baby blue in the gloom. His expression was . . . blank. Hard. I tried to sit back up, but he was too quick for me; he was on top and was pinning me down onto the couch.

"Don't . . . Reid . . . please . . .!" I moaned out feebly as he ran his tongue over my neck. He paused at the straps of my top, and it was only then that I realized just how exposed to him I really was. I shifted my weight under him in a hopeless attempt to throw him off, but that just made him press down harder into me. He bucked a little aganist me, a faint, but quickly growing bulge rubbed aganist my core, and I moaned out a little, making me unconsciously arch my back slightly as I struggled a little. He slid the other strap down off my shoulder.

"You wouldn't dare, Reid!" I hissed, my eyes flashing in alarm as he pulled away from me, where he sat up on his knees above me, towering over me, his breath ragged as he stared down at me. My heartbeat quickened at the picture. Reid was a good-looking boy, well . . . man now. He wasn't a boy no longer. I made damn sure of that, and I underestimated how much of an effect I would have on him, and how strong he really was. He was a man after all, and he knew what he wanted.

He wanted me, and he would get me one way or the other, it didn't matter what the price was.

"How would you stop me if I did?" He asked me quietly and I blinked, my eyebrows furrowing slightly in confusion.

"What the . . ." He laughed a little, putting his hands on the back of the couch on either side of my head. He leaned down, his lips inches from mine.

"You never know Nadine . . . I could be some sadistic psycho stalker, that could kill you at a moment's notice. Hell, I could kill you right now . . ." He then took his hands, and starting at the base of my throat, winded his way down my collarbone, between and over my breasts, down my stomach and ending at my waist. It was such an intimate, sexual movement that my breathe hitched slightly, and my legs slowly parted. "With these very hands that are making you squirm in anticipated pleasure, right now . . ."

My breathe was as quick and as ragged as his was when I answered, "Reid, you're not . . ."

"Tell me you don't want this, Nadine!" He growled suddenly, sitting up and pulling me up after him, gripping me by my upper arms so hard, it felt as though his fingernails were breaking through my skin. Maybe they were. I couldn't tell. "Tell me that you don't want me . . ." He repeated, his voice more urgent this time. I flinched as his grip tightened and then gave a tiny yelp as he slid the other strap of my top down lower and attacked my neck again. He was going to leave a mark!

"Reid, no, I . . .!" I pushed against him again, but it was useless. It was like trying to move a cemented down stone wall.

"Say it then! Tell me! If you don't, I'll . . ." I saw it then, when he lifted his head and looked at me again. He was losing control, something was broken or breaking inside of him and he was losing control and he hated it, but there was nothing that he could do about it. Covenant men were famous for being in control, and they reveled in it, and they hated, not being in control. Pogue was the worst and no matter how much Reid refused and loathed to admit it, he was exactly like him, and so he did the only thing that made sense to him. He hurt me in order to escape his own pain, and maybe he wanted to.

And maybe . . . maybe I . . .

He realized that his voice was getting a little too loud, and he lowered it substantially. "Say it!" He whispered, his voice cracking. "Tell me Nadine, and I'll leave you alone. I'll leave you alone for forever. You can get married to Pogue, pop out a bunch of little Pogues, and I won't do anything!" But I couldn't. This wasn't me. It would never be me. I couldn't say what he needed to hear.

But I could show him.

I stopped thinking. Nothing meant anything anymore. Instead, I reached up to him and gently pulled him down onto me, pressing myself up against him as much as I could. He stiffened momentarily, but then responded with as much gentleness and lovingness as I was giving him. We clawed at each other then, removing any clothing that made an obstruction between us, unaware and uncaring of anything else but each other.

There was a brief return to humanity though. The moment where he paused to look at me. "Last chance Nadine. Any more and I . . . I won't be able to stop. I could . . ."

"Hurt me," I finished for him, but I knew and he knew that this couldn't end here. It had gone too far, and there was no going back.

And we didn't care anymore.

We were in love.

Nothing felt real anymore. It was as if I was floating in empty space, totally oblivious to the things that were happening to me. But it couldn't stay that way. I sank back into my body all too quickly, the heat that seared through me, was keeping me far too conscious. I bit down on my injured lip to stop myself from moaning out, doing all that I could just to hold on, my thighs hugging his lean waist, and my fingers wrapping around his muscular biceps as he towered over me on his hands. His breath was coming out in short little puffs, his cross necklace was dangling between us, and it was to that religious idol, that my eyes were finally drawn to.

It was hypocritical, we both knew it. We were both raised strictly Catholic, and adultery was a sin. A major sin. It was a sin that we could not escape from, no matter how hard we tried. We always came back to repeat the same sin over and over again. We were Francesca and Paolo, a couple doomed only to be lovers.

Reid lay down on top of me then, his thrusts getting harder and quicker, and my arms moved to wrap around his back, one moving up to bury itself in his thick blonde hair as he ravaged the hallow of my throat with kisses. But I couldn't break away. I couldn't stop him. There was no point in trying.

Reid's lips found my neck then, and one of his hands traveled down, his calloused palm settling against the bottom of my thigh, where he hiked my leg father up to allow himself more entrance. I rolled my head back and my eyes fluttered shut as the heat grew to such a burning temperature, it was almost unbearable. His free hand was gently pushing my hips aganist his, in slight rotations as he gently thrusted. I gasped again when his teeth nipped at the convulsing muscles at my throat, and I worked to strangle back the noise.

He groaned again as I let out a whimper, and he became almost impossibly faster. His eyes turned black, and his lips crushed down onto mine with a vengeance. His hands pushed my hips into his, which steadily grew once again in tempo.

Sweet Jesus, sex with Pogue had never been like this!

I groaned then too, in spite of myself. He pulled my waist tighter, urgent, rhythmic, anything to relive the building, crushing tension growing between us . . .

He tried his hardest to slow down his movements, making a huge effort, his own breath ragged and coarse. I nearly yelped in surprise at this new change of pace, and he pressed a hard kiss to my lips. I immediately bucked at the sensation. He bucked back, almost vainly. Burying himself in me to the hilt, he spilled inside of me, both of us moaning and breathing hard.

And then too soon . . . it was over. Just like that. I lay there, breathing in ragged bursts underneath him, keeping in time with him as he caught his breath, his hands caressing my neck as he gently kissed the hallow of my throat, his hand kneading at my breast, keeping me still pleasantly tingling. Then, he pulled away from me.

Its strange, I thought. It had all started like this. Me, lying on my back in some dark, dank alleyway in Ipswich, my hair sticking to my face and blood drying on my skin, as Reid fought off those goons and as Pogue, Tyler and Caleb fought relentlessly to get to him and back him up. This time, however, I hadn't lost the fight.

I had willingly surrendered to my assailant.

I saw him staring down me then, just sitting up next to me and staring, his eyes longingly drinking in my nudity. His beautiful blue eyes ran over the tips of my graceful and small, yet still ample breasts, and the tiny down of curling black hair at the apex of my thighs that had so recently cradled him so intimately. My legs were still parted from where he had been between them seconds ago, and I felt his eyes linger on my still wet sex. I felt myself closing up, then, rising into a sitting position as my arms automatically moved to cover myself, even though there was little use in being modest anymore.

"Why are you still here?" I asked him flatly, coldly, my voice echoing the emotional void that my mind had become. I felt tears prickle in my eyes and I couldn't look at him anymore. "You got what you wanted didn't you? There's no point in you staying anymore." I could feel nausea curling around in my stomach like so many angry snakes, making me light-headed and leaving the taste of acid hanging thickly at the back of my throat. The air, so hot before, now felt much cooler, and was rapidly turning the sweat on my skin into clammy moisture that I suddenly, almost desperately, wanted to wash away in the shower. The rain was still falling, though, making him seem much handsomer than he almost had the right to be.

Reid stayed silent for a moment, and then reached out a hand, silently resting it under my chin and tipping my head up to look at him. I didn't want to. Even in the dim moonlight filtering in from the window walls leading to the outside, I could make out every lean muscle, every manly curve, every damn outline of his handsome body, still shining from the sweat that he was coated in too. His blonde hair hung limply over his blue eyes, still with that glow that made them stand out in the darkness, the very same glow that my own eyes had. It was painful to look at him. To look at him and know what that body had done to my own, countless times before. How it had given me so much pleasure so many times before, but I wouldn't look away.

Because I could see, deep down in his eyes, to his heart, and I knew that this was hurting him too. That this was tearing his heart into strips by the way we had to sneak around Pogue and Tyler and Caleb, and everyone else in order for our accursed affair to keep going.

"It doesn't mean anything," I heard myself say, quieter. "It doesn't mean a damn thing." He shook his head, his eyes radiating sympathy.

"It was never going to Nadine . . . until it did . . ."

He was right of course. I had sensed it in him. The same primal need that I had. That need to throw all his energy at something. Anything. It wasn't enough just to beat it out, to throw his whole being into hurting something else like we do every time we fought. I had never noticed it until he looked at me tonight, but when I had seen it in him, I realized that it was in me too, and that he had known that all along. We never wanted it to turn out this way until it actually did. We never wanted to love each other and get so down in this godforsaken hole, until we were already there. Until our primal fucking turned into passionate lovemaking.

And now there was no way out except through each other. There was no one else who could handle all the bottled up fury and power that we threw blindly and without restraint at one another night after night. Me, with my fury at my duties and my job and from Pogue's constant bullshit, and Reid from the Covenant and from the Power and from Lauren. We were trapped now. Knowing the solution, needing and hungering for the solution like a drug, but hating it all the same, knowing that love was growing more and more every time we made love to each other, even though we didn't want it to.

"I don't . . . want to love you Reid . . ." I told him quietly, my voice tripping over that word. It was true. I didn't want to love him, didn't want to want him, didn't want to feel anything for him, I just needed him. Needed him for reasons that my mind couldn't fully understand and register, but I had to make sure he knew. I just had to be sure.

"I know. I don't want to either. I don't want you to either." His answer was blunt and delivered in a voice just as flat and as quiet as my own. We were both shutting down, stopping ourselves from feeling anything so that we didn't have to face what we had just done. How we had just made passionate love to each other three times straight on the living room couch, and had enjoyed it.

"I should go . . ." I murmured. This was over now. There was no point in dragging it out any longer than it should be.

"You will. Soon. But go to sleep now," His voice had softened a little now and his hand moved to smooth some of my hair away from my face. His eyes were still cold though, and there was no compassion there anymore. But I had known better than to look for any.

He let his hand drop as I fell back against the couch's pillows, pulling the blanket over me and covering myself. I rolled over so that I wouldn't have to look at him anymore. Closing my eyes and not wanting to listen to the sounds of him reaching for his clothes, so he could return back to his room and to Lauren, and pretend that things were some semblance of normal. That we were an undivided Covenant, me and Pogue. Reid and his girlfriend, Lauren, and Caleb, and his wife, Sarah and their newborn son, Eden, and even blissfully oblivious, Tyler. It couldn't have taken long for me to fall asleep, I don't think I heard him move at all.

I didn't dream. I didn't dream about him.

I woke up too early, immediately conscious of the sticky feeling of dried sweat on my skin and the dull, yet still pleasurable ache between my legs. I tried to ignore them, and instead, I rolled over to face the sunlight coming in through the window wall. It hurt my eyes, but I welcomed the faint pain. It was a good, honest hurt, not the reckless, unthinking, wrong hurt of last night.

I looked through the window wall into the other one across the way, looking into the kitchen. Tyler was making breakfast at the stove as usual, being the only one that could remotely cook in this house besides me and Caleb. Reid, Tyler and Pogue were sitting at the island counter, waiting for him. Reid was silently drinking something (probably an orange juice and tonic) and Pogue was reading the morning paper. I felt tears come to my eyes. I had betrayed Pogue. I didn't mean to. I didn't want to.

And then I saw it.

Lying on the pillow next to me, was a single long-stemmed flower. I sat up and lifted it, examining it with bleary morning eyes.

It was an anemone. I remembered that my ex, boyfriend Jared would get them for me all the time when we were dating, and when I was angry at him, for their beauty. I smiled wryly. A member of the buttercup family, its name meant 'forsaken'. It was a symbol of dying hope.

And of anticipation.

There was a note attached to it. Just a scrap of paper crudely taped onto the stem. On it, in a messy black male scrawl, were the words:

'Tick, tick, tick . . .'"Boom," I finished quietly, staring out of the window, the dry, emotionless smile still present on my face as Reid turned his head and smiled a small smile at me through the windows.

I'd find him again, and this time, I wasn't going to lose so easily.

* * *

She looks far too different when she's sleeping. When she's lying there like that, with her hair all sticking up and out at odd angles against the pillow and her mouth open just a tiny bit so that I can hear her breathing perfectly and without that look that always seems to tell me _stay away_. She's a completely different person. When she's lying there, I can't see Nadine.

I can't see anything that I can hate.

There's always been something about her; ever since the first day we met. Something that called out, practically screamed out to me. She was always so fierce, so unafraid to throw everything she had at the enemy and keep on throwing it even when there was nothing left in her to give. Fighting her was a chance to cut loose, to really lay into something. The injuries, the bruises, the cuts and scrapes and broken bones all hurt like Hell, but, as sick and masochistic as it was . . . I never wanted anything else.

Or at least, that's what I thought.

As we got older, the fights stopped being enough. The exhaustion after every fight didn't stop me from feeling as restless as a Thoroughbred in the starting gate. I was still frustrated, still angry all the time. I hit her harder and faster, but I still didn't get any peace. I needed something else, but I had no idea what it was . . . until that one night . . .

Nadine had fought hard, as hard as she had ever fought before. We were both tired and bloody and barely able to move, and yet there she was, still standing there on her shaky legs and cursing at me like a drunken sailor, and in that one instant I looked at her and I saw it.

I saw the thing that I needed.

I could see it was burning in her like it was me. That single, primal urge burning her up from the inside out. So I flew at her, hit her again, knocked her down. And then it began. I started playing with her. A twisted cat and mouse game that I could see was throwing her little world into as much chaos as it was mine. But for me, it wasn't a game, althought I was as caught up in it as she was.

And then, that one night, I lost control. We both did. We pawed and clawed and attacked each other, desperately seeking a solution. And we found one, of sorts. We made primal, animalistic fucking love that night, in the guest room right next to my room, where Lauren was sleeping as soundly as a baby. We walked away with even more cuts and bites and bruises than ever before, but she left with shaky legs and a womb full of my seed. Since then, nothing has changed. I come here too often now, and the game begins all over again, every time.

But then she falls asleep, and everything changes.

So here I am again, staring down at a woman who no one else gets to see sleep, except probably Pogue, but you don't need to be a soothsayer to figure out that they don't have sex that much. I watch her shift in her sleep, and the newest mark I've left on her comes into view, standing out vividly on her collar bone. It's evidence of what I did to her. I'm never gentle, never caring. What we do has no feeling behind it, it is simply necessary. Or at least, that is our reasoning. She stirs again, and murmurs something into her pillow. I try not to listen, but I know what she's saying. The same thing she says every night. The same name, over and over and over again. I always leave then. I can't listen to that voice. Its not her voice, its someone else's. Someone I don't know. Or ever want to know.

She was saying my name.

I didn't see her again for two weeks after that night. I had a small exchange program in France, and when I did see her again, everything seemed to somehow change.

* * *

It was raining when I saw it.

Normally, it would have been something to take advantage of, a new weakness to exploit, but not this time. When I touched down on the carpet of the same living room again, she was sitting on the couch, facing the window, not lying under the covers with her back to it like normal; not pretending to be asleep in the vain hope that I would leave her be this one time. No, she sat waiting for me, dressed in a little tank top and shorts, the same ones, I realized, that she had worn the last time.

And then, in that dim orange light that I was so used to now, I saw something else. I saw it reflected on her cheeks and in the windows.

Tears.

It was something I had never seen from her. Something I had never expected to see from her, but there they were. Silently spilling down her cheeks from eyes that were still the same angry, defiant shards of bright brown that could have chilled anyone else to the bone. Anyone but me, and perhaps her father. But the tears . . . the tears shook me, no matter how well I hid it from her.

"You came back . . ." She murmured, her voice just barely audible. I shrugged one shoulder and let my mouth curl upwards at the corner.

"I always do, don't I?" I saw her hands curl into fists, her fingers gripping the pillows of the couch tightly.

"I thought you had finally left. Got tired of all the shit that goes down between you and Pogue and Caleb, and finally left for good. Two weeks, and you didn't come back or make any sort of contact. No phone calls, no nothing. I thought . . . I thought it was over."

"It's never over between us sweetheart," I told her smoothly, gliding over to her, masking the uneasiness caused by the tears. "You need this just as much as I do . . ." I leant in to push her back onto the couch, and she let herself fall back, the tears still falling slowly from her eyes.

"I don't . . ." She choked on the words that I knew she would say. The same ones she always said. _I don't love you_, _I don't want this_. But this time, she tripped on the words, and I found myself pausing. She looked up at me for a second, then closed her eyes and turned her face away. "I don't care anymore. I . . . I'm just tired. Just do it. Do it and get it over with, Reid." I stared at her for a long moment, stunned by what she had said. This was . . . unnatural. This was my Nadine, but it couldn't be Nadine because what she had just said . . . It meant that she had given up.

And that's when everything fell into place.

"_No_!" I pulled away from her sharply, standing up and walking away from the couch. She opened her eyes and sat up, her expression confused, but still pale and weak looking. This wasn't who I wanted. Who I _needed_. Who I _loved_. "I can't do this."

"What do you mean?" I whirled on her sharply, marching back over and seizing her by her upper arms. I could see her flash back to that first night, could see the resignation in her gaze and the undeniable lust, but that wasn't what this was about now. Not anymore.

I wanted to say something. To explain. But the words wouldn't come, not from me. So instead, I kissed her. But this was different from any other time. This time, I didn't force my way into her mouth, didn't press myself onto her, didn't sink my teeth into her lip just to feel the soft skin yield. This time, I was slow, gentle. This time when I tangled my hands into her hair, I wasn't rough with it. And this time when I pulled away, I put my hand against her cheek and wiped away some of her tears with my thumbs. She looked at me with those big sloe-brown eyes, equal parts scared, confused and suspicious, but I still didn't say anything. Instead, I kissed the corner of her mouth and worked my way over her cheek to her neck and down, lowering her back onto the couch as gently as I could manage. I peppered her skin with small, gentle kisses, never biting, never putting too much pressure on any one spot. She sighed involuntarily under these feather-light ministrations, and I gently worked my over her collarbone to the neckline of her top, my fingers teasing the strap already hanging off of one shoulder. And I was gentle, so gentle, never hurting her.

When I gently slid her shorts down her legs, her breath hitched slightly, but I shushed her and kissed her gently. She returned the kiss and waited warily for what I would do next.

When my lips touched her core, I heard her moan in surprise and her legs twitched slightly. I made love to her with my mouth, my hands moving up the flat, corded plane of her stomach and snaking underneath her tank top to grasp her breasts. My thumbs gently flicked at her nipples as my hands kneaded them, and I heard her issue forth another moan, a low, keening cry that made me laugh a little, which made her moan again at the sensation, and her back arch off the couch a little.

I heard her moan my name and my eyes latched onto hers. Her eyes were heavy-lidded with pleasure, her chest heaving from the double pleasure I was giving her, and her mouth parted in another little moan as she closed her eyes and as her hands grasped the bottom of my shirt, pulling it upwards. I broke apart long enough for the shirt to disappear off my frame before I dove back in, her hands grasping mine underneath her shirt.

She came not soon after that and I gently moved up her sated and limp body, where I gently kissed her cheek.

Her tears had dried by the time she fell asleep, and I picked her up in my arms, carrying her gently to the guest bedroom by my room that we always went to. I put her in the bed and as I pulled the covers over her, she gave a small sigh; not quite in contentment, but something like reassurance. I quickly rid myself of my remaining clothes and moved under the covers with her, where I watched her sleep, the same as I did every night. But this time when she murmured my name, I stayed to listen.

Things had changed. Both of us had realized that we needed more than a simple outlet for our energy. I had left for those two weeks because I had needed to get away; hammer my body into total exhaustion somewhere outside the city limits. She had cried because of feelings that had no place with her, but had nowhere else to go. So that night, without speaking, without explaining anything, I had given those feelings a place to go, just as she had drawn the excess Power from me into herself.

I had shown her just exactly how much love I had for her.

And at that final moment, where normally she would have turned herself away from me, she had looked at me, really _looked_ at me, and whispered, _I love you Reid . . . and I don't hate you._

Which was enough, for us. For now.


End file.
